Hysteria bubbled up inside him as he sat in the white, empty space and danced on the verge of madness as he tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. The innocent were his charge. He had to protect them. But how could he possibly do so? So many who —
The pounding of his heart suddenly paused.
And in that place of pure, brilliant light, he saw a figure that was light — the Light — itself. It hovered and glowed, gleaming as if its form was hard and crystalline but also soft, unspeakably soft, as soft as a tear, as soft as forgiveness, as soft as Alleria's pale skin. Golden strands draped the being, and Turalyon could not tell at first if they were leading from or to the creature — and then he understood, it was both. All that was, was this being, and this being, was everything. Awe flooded him and he drank in the sight of this beautiful, luminous being, feeling it fill him with hope and calm as if he were an empty vessel.
Do not despair, came a voice like bells, like chimes, like the sigh of the ocean. The Light is with you. We are with you. No matter how vast the darkness, Light will scatter it. No matter what world, no matter what creature, the Light is there, in that place, in that soul. Know this, and go forward with a joyful heart, Turalyon.
As if it sang in response, Turalyon's heart began to beat once more. He realized it had never stopped; that the long, frozen, rapt moment had been less than the blink of an eye.
Khadgar gave Turalyon the space to let it sink in. Finally, Turalyon lifted his head. His eyes were focused, clear, and his face was resolute.
"We have to stop them," Turalyon stated firmly. "We can't let other, innocent worlds have this… this… unleashed on them. It ends here. On Azeroth. No one else should have to suffer as we have. The Light shines on other worlds than ours, and it needs our help. It will have it."
Khadgar heard some resentful murmurings from some of Turalyon's men. Turalyon heard it too, for he stood, frowning.
"If you have something to say, say it clearly," he ordered. The soldiers who'd been talking exchanged glances, then one stepped up.
"Sir… why don't we just let them go? If they have fresh worlds to take, maybe they'll just go away and leave us alone."
"Even if it were that simple, we can't let that happen. Don't you understand?" Turalyon said. "We have to stop them. We can't save our world at the expense of countless innocent lives!"
"Besides," came Alleria's clear voice as she strode up to them, dusty and sweaty and spattered with blood too dark to be her own, "what is to stop them from returning once they have gotten fat off plunder?” With her sharp sense of hearing, of course, she’d heard everything. Khadgar thought her a trifle paler than usual, but she was almost eerily composed. Would you like to battle a Horde twice the size of the one we faced during the Second War, completely united, and with the ability to open portals to Azeroth from anywhere?"
Khadgar saw the disappointment in Turalyon's eyes. The paladin had hoped the men would understand his point. And more, he'd hoped Alleria would. But it seemed that Alleria was still consumed with hatred for the orcs. She did not really care about other worlds. She wanted to hunt the orcs down and kill them herself; she had no wish to let others share that particular cruel delight. She turned to Turalyon, and color rose briefly in her face, then subsided.
"Sir, while we were fighting, I saw something I think you should be aware of. We noticed a group of . . ."
Khadgar was barely listening to her musical voice. Something else was nagging at his thoughts… something was not right. He gasped as understanding burst upon him.
"I'm an idiot!" Khadgar cried, cutting Alleria off in mid-sentence. "They're not losing!" he shouted. "They're retreating! They've found all the artifacts they needed and they're returning home to Draenor! The entire invasion was just a feint to distract us, and now they're done!"
Gaz Soulripper glanced up at him, shock and fear in his glowing eyes. The death knight surged to his feet. snapping the stout ropes that bound his hands and feet and chest. Terror lent him magical strength as well — from somewhere deep inside, Gaz shunted aside Khadgar's mental lance and raised fresh shields that blocked the archmage's reflexive attempt to regain control.
"You will not interfere!" Gaz roared, leaping atop Khadgar and wrapping mailed hands around the archmage's throat. "You will not thwart our destiny!"
The death knight began to squeeze, and Khadgar gasped for air, struggling to push the creature away even as his vision swam. Blackness crept in along the edges of his sight, framing wild colors flashing before him. He couldn't push the hands away, he couldn't think to summon a spell.
And suddenly, through the insanely swirling palette of colors came a flash of pure white. Even as it seared Khadgar's eyes, it wrapped him in reassuring warmth and a sensation of peace sharply at odds with the pain of hands crushing his windpipe and cutting off blood. Briefly he wondered if he was already dead but hadn't gotten around to noticing it yet.
The light swelled, then faded. The dead hands around Khadgar's throat tightened convulsively before the pressure suddenly disappeared. Khadgar swayed, blinking, dazzled from the white light, coughing and gasping at the same time, his lungs struggling to bring air back into his body.
"You all right?" It was Turalyon, his hands, still glowing softly, helping Khadgar to rise. Glancing down, Khadgar noticed that his violet robe was now dusty gray — all that was left of Gaz Soulripper. He looked at Turalyon, stunned again by the young general's power. Turalyon read his glance and smiled sheepishly. Khadgar clasped his friends arm. "Thank you."
"It was the Light, not I," Turalyon said with his characteristic modesty.
"Well, your damned Light killed him too fast," Alleria growled. Even Khadgar blinked at the venom in her voice. "We could have asked him about the carts I saw."
"Carts?" Khadgar asked. "Explain."
She turned to him, clearly more comfortable speaking with the mage than with Turalyon. "I saw some of the orcs going through the portal. Black dragons accompanied them. There were carts, several of them, all covered. They were taking things back to their world."
"They came to get artifacts, not souvenirs," grunted Khadgar. "What would they need carts for?"
Alleria shrugged. "I know not, but I thought you should know."
"Another puzzle piece. Just when I thought we'd figured it out." Khadgar brushed disgustedly at his robe, then looked up at them. "We've got quite the task ahead of us. We need to send an expedition into Draenor. We have to find and kill Ner'zhul before he can open any more portals, retrieve those artifacts — especially the Book of Medivh — and Gul'dan's skull, and destroy the Dark Portal for good."
Turalyon nodded, summoning a scout with a quick gesture, every inch the military commander. "Send word to the Alliance kings," he said quickly. "The Horde is—"
His words were cut off as a shadow passed over the sun. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he glanced up, then began to laugh as the shadow broke apart into several winged forms that circled down toward them. These were not arrow-straight like dragons; they were broader, stouter, and softer, covered in tawny fur and feathers of gold and white.
“What took you?" Turalyon called back, laughing with Khadgar as Kurdran Wildhammer, leader of the Wildhammer dwarves, shook his head and managed to look embarrassed from atop his gryphon.
"Bad winds," the dwarf admitted, bringing Sky'ree in for a landing. The great beast landed gracefully and cawed, flapping its wings one final time before its rider dismounted. Despite the direness of the situation, Khadgar found himself smiling. It was good to see hale, gruff Kurdran.